


Loving a Daydream

by The_Weeping_Reaper



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21822706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Weeping_Reaper/pseuds/The_Weeping_Reaper
Summary: Tarek works at The Raven, a cozy little bar nestled in an unfamiliar city. He meets Nomad siblings Wyverne and Mephistopheles as they wander from place to place. Will they ever return?
Relationships: Tarek / Mephistopheles (The Arcana)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 1





	1. Runaway Love

**Author's Note:**

> Some lovely friends from Discord got me pulled into the Modern!AU idea. We bounced ideas off of each other, and this is the result. I was given permission to use fantasmagorias' Tarek and athousandstarstodreamon's Vega.
> 
> This will be 3 parts, so let's get going!!
> 
> All foreign languages will have translations at the end!! See the notes at the bottom!

The night life. Not so different from any other city. Bright streetlights and flashes of headlights, buildings with lighted windows as high as the eye could see. Neons winked, blinked occasionally. People wandered the streets, not as much as when the sun was overhead. Drunk laughter and slurred speech, an almost trip here and there.

Wyverne. A nomad, though in this day and age you didn't need to be. She stared out the large glass window, a melancholic look to her eye, her emerald a little dull. She knocked back the rest of her Salty Bitters, the glass set smoothly down on the tabletop. A glance at her phone told her no new messages, not from her Grandmother, not from her disaster of a brother.

Tarek was alone at the bar that night, save for his friend Vega. Simple black, golden embroidery for the bar's logo, hair styled just a tad. Wyverne was his only customer left, and he was starting to grow somewhat concerned. After just five, even the good Doctor Devorak was starting to show signs of being drunk. She was either extremely good at hiding it, or she knew how to hold her alcohol. He walked over to her, a gentle hand on her shoulder, startling her out of her reverie.

"Hey. It's getting pretty late, yeah?" He started to gather the empty highball glasses, getting occasional glances. "Shouldn't you be going home?" She looked at him with owlish eyes, a spark of confusion in her eyes before the words quickly registered.

"Ah, yes, it is quite late," she answered him, a soft accent brushing up against her vowels. "Though, you can save yourself the trouble. I have no place to call home." She quickly gave him the money she owed, tucking a couple thick curls behind her ear. "Keep the change."

She got up from her seat, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. Her sneakers made no noise on dark hardwood, ripped jeans exposing some of her legs to the cool night air, the silver bell announcing her leave.

"That's the second time she's said that, Vega," Tarek said, a hint of frustration in his voice. "Does she not want to go back because its abusive? Does she not want to go back because she's been kicked out?" He brought the glasses behind the bar, giving them a quick wash and dry, his sleeves still rolled past his elbows.

"I don't know, but it worries me," Vega told him, worry creeping into her voice. "Who just says that to a complete stranger!?"

"Let's hope she's found a place by her next visit." The soft clink of glasses could be heard as he put them away, voice slightly muffled by the cold marble countertop. He tossed the towel he used, grabbing a fresh one to use for the next day. Tarek continued the small talk with Vega, finishing his closing for the night.

☆ THE NEXT DAY ☆

It was bright and warm, not a cloud in the sky. The streets were alive, people coming and going and chatting on their phones. Cars honked horns, traffic building in the more busy intersections.

Just outside The Raven, Wyverne was sitting on the edge of the fountain, a cooling bubble tea sitting next to her lap. All around her were children, young and old, watching with utter fascination. Her tribal tattoo, now exposed in the warmth of the day, had started to shimmer. Stark black lines gave way to a rainbow of color, shimmering into view like a pebble dropped in a pool of water. She willed the lines to move, to break apart and snake around her arm. The youngest children shrieked in delight, the older ones murmuring _oohs_ and _aahs._

Tarek was outside on his lunch, having glanced up from scrolling through his social media feeds. He saw the gaggle of children, heard their shrieks and oohs, and when he craned his head to see over the tallest children, he had to do a double take. Surely tattoos weren't supposed to shift colors like chameleons and snake around the wearer's arm….right? Sure, anything was possible, he's been around Asra Alnazar long enough to know that. But _that_ was different, something he had never heard of or read.

All too quickly, the illusion faded, the tattoo fading to black and the lines returning to their original form. Wyverne took a drink from her bubble tea, admiring their shocked faces. She held her drink in a cool hand, and held her hand out.

"Want to see something _fun?_ " Wyverne asked, voice hushed so Tarek had to strain to hear. The children nodded eagerly, a chorus of 'yeah!'s ringing out.

Wyverne turned her manicured hand up towards the sky, revealing her scarab beetle tattoo. It softly glowed, too faint to see in daylight, and a pale blue butterfly appeared in her hand. The wings seemed to be made of delicate glass, the sunlight creating patterns on her skin. A soft stroke to its thorax with her right index finger, and she took a breath. The children held theirs, and with a soft blow to the butterfly's wings it burst. Butterflies burst forth from shattered wings, all variations of color and shape and size. Large cyan butterflies with teardrop wings, small crimson butterflies with fire in their wings. Slightly large emerald ones with leaf-shaped wings.

The butterflies swirled around her, the breeze from their wings lifting her curls just slightly. And then, all of them started to fly away, landing on tables and benches and curbs. The children chased them, marvelling at how some landed on their noses, their shoulders, their hair. They laughed, touching the wings, watching the butterfly burst into more butterflies. Wyverne watched it all happen, her chin resting in her hand, fingers curled to brush her bottom lip.

Tarek was _fascinated._ He thought this was just a simple trick of the eye, but when he saw the big teal butterfly land on the back of his hand, he started having different thoughts. He snapped a picture, the butterfly shaking its wings in response to the camera shutter. He set down his phone, and brushed the deep teal thorax with his middle finger lightly, afraid too much pressure would shatter the moment _literally._ It shivered in response, drops of soft blue splashing against his lightly tanned skin, leaving shimmering wing dust in its wake. All of a sudden, the butterfly burst, a soft ring of brilliant teal the only sign it was ever there.

He looked up, ready questions for the girl he dubbed 'Street Magician.' She was nowhere to be found, as if she herself had been made of the prismatic butterflies. Thoughtfully humming to himself, Tarek got up from his chair, pushing it in. He went inside The Raven, his break having been over ten minutes ago. He sent the picture of the teal butterfly to Vega, reminding himself to tell her what happened later on.

••Later That Night••

"So, wait….you saw the _whole thing?_ " Vega asked, her voice rising with the question. "And you didn't tape it!?" She sounded incredulous, her glass barely touched, so enthralled with the too-good-to-be-true story.

"Look, even if I could, most of my view was blocked," Tarek replied, setting two highball glasses right side up on the counter, edges turned white from salt. "Besides, I didn't want to break the spell." He grabbed the bottle of bitters, and the bottle of rum, pouring each one into the glasses, and adding a dash more salt. He topped it with a bottle of ginger beer, splitting it between the two glasses.

Tarek gave one to Julian, replacing his empty glass. The good natured doc muttered his thanks, still in deep blue scrubs from his shift. His auburn curls haphazardly fell over his right eye, a perpetual state of bedhead even though he usually never saw one. Julian took a small sip, watching Tarek as he maneuvered around patrons, bringing Wyverne her third Salty Bitters.

" _Grazie_ ," Wyverne muttered, almost absentmindedly. She had been reading an article, based out of Las Vegas, from a link Azlingua had sent her.

"Wow. You know Italian?" Tarek chuckled, placing her empty glass on his tray and wiping the table down. That startled the redhead, shaking her out of her little world.

"Oh jeez, I'm sorry!" She started to blush, embarrassed at having used the simple phrase in front of him. "I didn't-"

"Hey, that's fair. I bet being polylingual is hard," he said, giving her a soft smile. He touched her shoulder, reassuring, before heading back to the bar.

"She's a girl after my own heart," Julian muttered into his glass, his grey eyes never looking away entirely. "Does she get them every time or…?"

"Ever since she showed up one day, yeah," Tarek told him, washing the empty glasses. "Has, like, eight and walks out the door like she's only had one." He started to buff the glasses dry, glancing at Julian. "She's outstanding with tip though."

"So, do you know anything about her?" Vega asked, taking a sip of her own drink. "She's _mysterious,_ and yet knows the town like she's _lived_ _here for _ages_. Its so _strange!_ "_

_Tarek just shrugged, any other useful information lost to him. He had tried to pry the first time she showed up, speaking rapid-fire Russian into her phone. She had gotten startled, and had spoken to him in a quiet, defensive tone, like she didn't trust him enough. It was fair on her part, a random stranger coming up to her and asking her questions she most likely didn't have the answer to anymore would be very suspicious._

_"On another topic, when was the last time you _slept,_ Doc?" Tarek asked Julian, a hand on his hip, with his other against the lip of dark grey marble. "Your bags looks like they could swallow. you. alive."_

_"I _slept!_ " Julian protested, a smirk on his lips. "Uh-huh, _when?_ " Vega pried, an unamused look on her face. _

_"Uh…..hmm...well…" Julian muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. The man usually had coffee instead of actual blood at times, his job usually not allowing it, though he generally refused on a regular basis._

_Tarek rolled his eyes in amusement, softly shaking his head. Julian just smiled sheepishly, glancing into his drink, hand reflexively rubbing the back of his neck. Tarek had started to make another drink for a customer when his hands stopped moving, eyes wide and the teal there showing signs of more curiosity._

_Mephistopheles. Another nomad by design, quirky self-defense teacher in multiple countries and cities. Ice blue eyes roamed the bar scene, scanning for his sister's classic messy curls. He found her, and with a quiet smirk walked over to her, sneakers barely a whisper on the dark hardwood._

_"Ei bine, dacă nu e micul Verne," he said softly, in native Romanian tongue, chuckling at the hard glare she gave. "Nu fi așa, micuț sis." He had set his bag beside him, chin resting in his cupped hand._

_He started talking to her in a low voice, with the others just barely making out any words at all. Tarek had just starting pouring for the martini he was making when a sudden burst of sharp laughter came from him. Tarek stopped pouring, turning to face the two in the back, Vega eyeing with some interest as Julian took a call from Mazelinka._

_"Într-adevăr? Asta e tot ce îți faci griji?" Mephisto reached across the table, holding her shaking hands. "Wy, its okay to relax. You need to let go, and have fun while you're here." He brushed a tear from her cheek, and slowly got up. She got up with him, knocking back the rest of her drink, leaving her money underneath the thick glass before leaving._

_☆ ONE WEEK LATER ☆_

_"Did you _seriously_ start _crushing_ on him?" Vega had stopped by, running errands before opening her shop a couple streets over. She had walked with Tarek over to The Raven, since he had forgotten something last night._

_"Uh...no? Why do you think that?" Tarek had a soft blush, barely there against tanned skin. He had dressed casually this morning, not opening till later in the day. Soft blues and worn denim, ragged sneakers looking like hell._

_"You won't stop _gushing_ about him! How his hair looked, his eye color, his outfit," she listed, tapping her fingers. "If I didn't know you better, _Mister,_ I'd say you have more of a crush on this handsome stranger than Asra!"_

_Tarek sighed, slowly pushing open the door. The door chimed, and he disappeared towards the back, grabbing what he had left behind. As he exited the front of the bar, a small commotion was happening outside. Vega was waving at him excitedly, trying to get him to come out. Confused, but curious, he went to the glass, and nearly had to pick up his jaw from the floor._

_Mephistopheles was outside, shirt off in the warmth of the sun. His hair was back, out of his face in a ponytail, icy eyes narrow in concentration. His hands were defensive, legs shoulder width apart. Wyverne was a few feet away from him, magic projectiles in front of her in shimmering pastels. She launched another volley, his body moving as if there were no bones in him. Every muscle flexed, tensed when they came too close. He deflected with ease, twisting and bending low to avoid the ones over his head. He finished off the volley with a particularly high kick, almost a full standing split._

_Tarek's breath was stuck. His face was too warm, his heart was too fast. There was a certain warmth that spread through him, trying to gather at the base of his spine. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He seemed to curse himself in his thoughts, trying to shake them off. No, he couldn't have those thoughts. He had work later, there was no way he was doing this. Tarek walked outside, trying to get his face to stop feeling so warm._

_" _Wow!_ Is that a type of self defense!?" Vega whispered to him, awe in her eyes. She glanced at Tarek, smirking at how red his cheeks were. "Aw, what's the matter? Getting a little _heated?_ " She teased him, poking his cheek._

_Mephistopheles had another volley, this one a pastel pink, close together at various points. He ran up to the volley, a sword appearing at his side. With a nimble grace he unsheathed it, the sword loose in his right hand. As the targets met him, the sword sang through the air. With clashes of blue steel the targets were cleaved, his body swaying and twisting. His biceps flexed, his shoulders meeting together with an overhand blow. His breath came a little faster, sculpted muscle rising and falling, his sword a hair's breadth from Wyverne's shoulder, a smirk on his face._

_"Good run, _strigoi_ ," Wyverne giggled, gently pushing the blade away from her shoulder. A snap of her fingers and the multicolored chunks vanished, fizzing out like a hologram._

_Mephisto smirked, a canine gleaming in the sunlight. He glanced at Tarek, taking his hair out of the ponytail, winking at him. He sheathed the sword, taking his water bottle and pouring a mouthful into his mouth, pouring some more over his body to cool off. His right arm showed the tribal tattoos, lines thick and thin, wrapping themselves around his arm. The black had lightened slightly, looking more like a very dark grey than true black. He grabbed his shirt and slipped it on, the words 'MY FIRST LANGUAGE IS SARCASM' printed in bright, bold teal spraypaint._

_Tarek blushed more, clearing his throat and giving him a small wave before hastily walking around the corner. Vega laughed, following Tarek, her keys jingling at her side. Tarek was slumped on the ground, hands barely covering his face, lip caught between his teeth. Vega casually leaned against the wall, shoulders shaking with contained laughter._

_"So, uh, shall we consult the almighty magic eight ball?" Vega jingled her keys, holding it by the circular clasp. "Vega, _shut up,_ " Tarek grumbled, peeking out of his fingers to glance up at her. _

_"Hehe. Does Tarek have a crush on Mr. Tall, Blond, and Handsome?" She jingled the keys, the eight ball bouncing around. She tossed the keys into the air, catching the ball and turning it right side up. The ball simply read, ' _more likely than you think._ '_

_"Oh, for _pete's sake_ ," Tarek chuckled, shoulders shaking. "You have the divination skills of a Goddess, yet you rely on a toy eight ball?"_

_"Oh come on, its for fun." She held out her hand, and he gratefully took it. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, and followed her to the shop, hoping seeing Asra could clear his mind. He had to work in a few hours._

_••Later On••_

_Mephistopheles was sitting at the bar, nursing his cocktail. His hair splayed over his shoulder, a decent tshirt, the letters spelling out 'YES I'M SMOKING' in a deep teal. Dark denim, slightly worn at the knees, his sneakers relatively fresh. An assortment of rings were on his fingers, borrowed from Wyverne._

_He quickly tapped something out in a message to Azlingua, chuckling softly as he downed the rest of his drink. Tarek gave him a refill, dressed in the bar's signature black, trying to not blush as their fingers brushed. Mephisto's hand was surprisingly cool comparatively, and the blond glanced up at Tarek, giving the softest smile he could muster._

_"So, you're an angel, huh?" Mephisto had this voice, this voice that could lure you in with caramel notes from his Romanian accent. It caught Tarek off guard, the question phrased weird._

_"Well, I could be. Why do you ask?" Tarek decided to play along, leaning on the bar, chin cupped in his hand. His teal eyes shone with amusement, a soft blush from being so warm working on his cheeks._

_"Because I think you're….. no, wait!" Mephisto blushed furiously, hiding his face, a low groan in his throat. "Ughhhhh I fucked up…" He slumped onto the bar, face buried in his arms._

_Tarek laughed, bright and clear. He tried to cover his mouth, to stifle his snickering. Mephisto blushed further, his ears reddening. Gods, this man in front of him was just too cute._

_"Gods, I'm sorry," he said, wiping away a tear, swallowing back his giggles. "Its just…," and here he struggled for a second or two, "I find you adorable. And attractive." He mumbled the last bit under his breath, laughing and turning redder._

_Across the way, tucked in a booth, Vega was watching with mild interest. Her chin was sitting eagerly in cupped hands, lip caught between her teeth. Asra had chuckled with mild interest when he heard Tarek laugh. Julian just rolled his eyes, taking a drink from his glass._

_"Gods, and _I_ thought _we_ were disasters around Asra. That stranger is such a mess!" Vega had a laugh, clutching Julian's shoulder, taking a drink from her glass._

_"Oh, like _you're_ one to talk," Julian told her, glancing at her through auburn curls. "I distinctly remember _someone_ being a total mess when Asra flirted with them." She smacked his bicep, making him laugh, her cheeks a bright apple red._

_"So, uh, what's your name?" Tarek had given Mephisto a smirk, eyes wandering the angular features. "My name is Tarek."_

_"Tarek. Lovely name," he said softly, meeting his gaze. "My name is Mephistopheles. Named after the demon, lived up to my name." He chuckled, his accent making the two names lovelier._

_Wyverne chose this moment to walk past, heading for her usual seat. She had watched, shaking her head at Mephisto's poor attempt at flirting. Her hair was in a half ponytail, her outfit simple and plain. Her sandals on the hardwood were lost among the laughter and jests and oohs. She wore her piercings, mismatching the studs on purpose. When Mephisto's arm was within range of her hand, she smacked him. True to his dramatic nature, he clutched his arm in mock horror._

_"Sis! Why would _you do_ that!?" Mephisto dramatically touched the back of his hand to his forehead, his face scrunched in mock pain. "I'm too fragile!" Wyverne shook her head, rolling her eyes as hard as she could. She gave him her best 'whatever' look, the corner of her lips curved into a smile. _

_Tarek shook his head. Dramatic _and_ an adorable hunk? What could make this man even more attractive was beyond him as he set about making a drink. He got out a chilled martini glass and rimmed it with colorful teal salt. Taking out a few different liquors, he filled his chilled steel cocktail strainer with ice and started a simple dance with the bottles. Tarek twirled two of them like simple pens, letting them dance around his fingers before sending them tumbling end over end into the air. He sent the third up over his shoulder, spinning around, rocked back on his heels as he snatched the first two out of the air. The first two were poured into the strainer, the cap closed and the container shaken, the third bottle spinning around his finger. He poured the contents into the glass, slightly frosting the outside with the cold, the third bottle poured last, the blue curacao creating a rim of blue against the stark clearness of the remainder of the drink. Tarek slid it across the bar to the waiting patron, and started to put liquors away._

_Mephisto had been watching, unable to tear his eyes away. The smooth fluidity of Tarek's movements caused a flush of warmth to rise to his cheeks, to spread through his limbs and gently gather at the base of his spine. Tarek caught his eye, and winked at him, tongue caught between his teeth as he popped open two bottles of dark lager beer._

_Vega and Julian had witnessed the whole thing, barely containing their snickers. They were completely made for each other, even if Tarek had gotten smoother over the years. Asra was pressing his lips together, edges curled into a smile, trying to not laugh with Vega. All of them silently rooted for Tarek, Asra hoping for the teasing to be cut down, even though he didn't particularly mind it._

_☆ ONE MONTH LATER ☆_

_Tarek was just outside The Raven, scrolling through. He had been trying to learn the languages he had heard Mephistopheles use with his sister, and gotten as far as basic communications. He was just about to start another lesson on one of his apps when he heard a crinkle of tissue paper, the soft scoot of the chair on concrete._

_Mephistopheles was sitting across from him, a little more nervous than usual. His long legs were crossed under the table, a soft blush on his cheeks, fingers idly twisting his hair. _C'mon Mephi, it's not hard!__

_"H-Hey, Tarek," Mephisto said, clearing his throat, a nervous tremble. "Look, I have something to say."_

_"What is it?" Tarek slid his phone off to the side, propping elbows on the glass top. His fingers were laced, chin resting on them, eyes shining. "You can tell me. Is it about your sister?"_

_"Yeah, a little," Mephisto muttered, clearing his throat again. _Gods, why is this so hard!?__

_"The reason you haven't seen my sister is….well….she's been running. I don't remember from who," _LIAR_ , "but she couldn't stay. She felt that she was gonna be caught. And...well…" He rubbed the back of his neck, a deep shuddering breath, his head tilted down so his chin met his chest. It felt painfully tight, he didn't know why._

_"Hey, hey, hey. Its ok, take your time," Tarek reach out, touching Mephi's bicep. He rubbed his thumb across it, his teal eyes full of worry. Whatever this was, he was badly shaken._

_"I….I have to follow. I can't stay," Mephisto looked on the verge of tears, his ice welling up. "I would love to…..to see where this goes. But I have to make sure she's ok." He furiously wiped at his eyes, rubbing his hand on worn denim. "Fuck, I promised I wouldn't cry."_

_Tarek felt _devastated._ Little Street Magician _left? That's_ why she wasn't around? He quickly went around to Mephi, an arm around his shoulders. He wanted to comfort, but _how?_ It was all just vague information, probably for a good reason, but it was _so vague.__

_Mephisto took out a felt tip pen and uncapped it. Wiping a stray tear that had managed to fall, he wrote down his number, writing his name in elegant script. He recapped the pen, stowing it in his pocket, grabbing the flowers he brought. He placed them in Tarek's lap, a gorgeous array of blues dotted with white._

_" _Te iubesc,_ " Mephisto muttered softly, a soft kiss on Tarek's cheek. He got up, his fingers trailing under Tarek's chin as he left, leaving him in awe._

_Tarek shook his head, trying to not let a tear fall down his cheek. He picked up the flowers, touching the petals like they would shatter if he pressed too hard. Carnations tipped with teals and blues, roses in blues from light to dark and each color in between. Baby's breath scattered itself throughout, accented with lily of the valley. He brought the bouquet to his nose, the flowers smelling delicate, mixing with the lingering scent of Mephisto's cologne. He whispered his love into the flowers, getting up and texting Vega that he was bringing over flowers after, and added Mephisto into his contact list._


	2. What Happens In Vegas...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its been roughly one year. On the run, Wyverne and Mephisto find themselves looking for fun. They enter the prestigious nightclub, The Vesuvia, and meet owner Lucio Morgasson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to follow these two disaster siblings, to give you guys an idea of how much they needed an escape. Its all fluff, fun, and just a hollow need that won't be filled.
> 
> As always, feel free to correct any errors in the languages! This is Russian and Italian!

It's been roughly a year since Wyverne and Mephistopheles left. They were in Vegas, enjoying the night life, itching for something to do. They had been cooped up in their home with Azlingua for roughly six months, they needed some air and time alone.

The Vesuvia was bustling, it always was on the weekends. Lucio Morgasson was entertaining clients, his silver eyes reflecting the rich colors of the lighting. He laughed at something a client had said, his head tossed back. His suit was crisp, the crimson hues of his suit standing out against black pinstriping, gold piping a lovely accent. He had an expensive prosthetic, his decorative claws off for the night, the deep grooves glowing a pure white.

Valerius was standing just behind him to his left. His honeyed eyes scanned the doors, nursing a glass full of a rare red wine vintage. His clothes were more loose, comfortable, easy to move in, a brooch in the shape of a ram's head keeping the suit jacket together.

Suddenly, movement from a set of doors caught Valerius' eye. A tall blond, not unlike Lucio, entered the bar, giving Vulgora a double take before shooing him inside, giving a low threat. Valerius could just make out a shock of curls around the tall man's waist, but soon dismissed it. _Could be another patron coming back in._

••

Mephistopheles nodded to himself, his hand reaching back to brush against his sister's arm. It was everything his research said it would be, and maybe a little more. He walked towards the back, his outfit chosen well. Tight denim and some loose ripped fabric, his hair braided in a few places along his right temple.

He scooted into an empty booth in the far back, quickly followed by Wyverne. She had temporary rainbow streaks in her curls, hair pulled into the messiest bun she could allow. Her makeup was colorful, eyes mismatched and lipstick bright neons. Mephisto ordered a couple drinks for the two of them, and sighed softly.

"You could've stayed behind, y'know," Wyverne told him, touching his shoulder, rubbing it with her thumb. "I would've sent you updates every day."

"Verne, you know it's not the same," Mephisto told her, a hand on hers. "I love seeing all the new places, and I love seeing the bright smiles on your face."

Valerius' eye twitched slightly. Verne? He looked over, and saw the shock of curls, the slight hint of green underneath the lights of the club. His eyes widened, and he gently touched Lucio's left shoulder, careful to not dislodge the prosthesis.

"What?" Lucio drawled, his head turned to the side, blond falling into his eye. "It's her," Valerius answered softly. "To your left, she has rainbow streaks now."

Lucio looked, about to silently chew him out. His eyes widened, just the slightest, the softest of blushes creeping across his cheeks. Sure, The Devil had said she'd have looks. But looks? Like, looks that could stop your heart and make you warm and feel shit? He caught her glance over at him, before turning her eyes back to the man beside her.

Lucio smirked, a bright idea coming to him. He motioned for one of the serving girls, and whispered detailed instructions, pointing to Wyverne. Valerius quietly groaned into his wine glass, frustration in every line of his face as he took a sip. How he managed to do this with every cute girl and still stay afloat was beyond him.

The serving girl brought Wyverne her new drink, the empty highball glass taken away. This drink had a red swirl to it, suspended in the clear liquor. The martini glass was rimmed with pure red sugar, the scent of warm cinnamon reaching her nose as she took a small sip. Normally, she loved her weird taste in drinks, but there was something about this slightly sweet drink flavored with cinnamon that really set her at ease.

"That looks good," Mephisto glanced at her glass, taking a sip of his drink. He set his glass down, glancing at his phone. He hadn't heard from Tarek in a while, maybe he should give a call.

"Mmm, its really good. Want to try?" She offered him her glass, her head tilted to the side. Mephisto smiled softly, shaking his head. "Nah, that's ok. I was, uh, going to call him. See how he's doing." Mephisto cleared his throat, and downed the rest of his drink. He stood up, blushing gently as he made his way out one of the side exits.

••

Lucio's clients had dispersed, his target still at her seat. She took a sip of her drink, scrolling through something on her phone. He got up, smoothing down his suit before walking over to her, his flesh hand threading through soft gold. He sat down next to her, a soft clearing of his throat.

"Hello there, gorgeous. How are enjoying your stay?" Lucio put on his best smirk, his gauntlet around the back of the booth. She started, looking at him, eyes wide with startled curiosity.

"Um….I...its…," she stammered, falling over her words. She was thankful for her freckles, how they hid her blush the longer she looked at him. _No, no! You are NOT falling for a man that looks like Mephi!_

"Hmmm, cat got your tongue?" He crooked a finger under her chin, angling her face to get a better view into her eyes. Confusion clouded the green, eyebrows quirked and head tilted slightly in his hand.

"I….don't think a cat has my tongue, Sir," Wyverne responded, confused. "Would you...like to see?" Lucio chuckled, a soft sound that spread warmth through her.

"Oh darling, its what we call, a 'figure of speech'. Haven't you heard?" He brushed his thumb along her bottom lip, lip catching between his teeth.

"I have, Sir. I never bothered learning," Wyverne said, slowly shifting to her fiery nature. "Too hard to keep track of them all." She gently pulled away, taking the last sip of her drink, glancing at her phone for the time. Lucio clicked his tongue. _So she's polylingual? Fucker never mentioned that_. His golden hand gently played with a few curls, something upbeat playing overhead. She was brought another drink, and a tray of food.

Mephisto finally came back, a small blush across his cheeks as he scooted in next to her. Her attention was focused on him, giggling at his blush. She talked to him in Russian, trying her best to contain her laughter. Her shoulders shook, a hand on her stomach, a hand over her lips. Mephisto playfully smacked her arm, muttering something under his breath.

"Well, would you look at that. Your charms aren't working," Valerius spoke under his breath, close to Lucio's ear. Commotion from the front caused him to take a quick glance, at which point Vulgora quickly took care of the situation. 

"Shut up," Lucio growled, his head turned to the side. He rested his fingers against his forehead, brows furrowed. The drinks, the smooth talking, the casual flirting -- all of this should have worked. She should be eating out of his hand by now. A sudden protest of no's roused Lucio from his thoughts. 

"Нет, я не танцую, Мефисто!" She tried to pull away, though it was halfhearted. Her lips were still pulled into a smile, a laughter to her voice. He rolled his eyes, pulling her to her feet, disappearing from view into the small crowd.

Lucio watched her disappear, glancing from the corner of his eye. The corner of his lip twitched, a certain storm coalescing in his silver gaze. He needs to get her away, with him, alone. Valerius sat beside him, wine glass on the table.

"I spoke to him," Valerius said, watching their target dancing, the throng of people occasionally obscuring her. "He wants you to hand her over tomorrow, preferably untouched."

Lucio chuckled, a smirk as he reached for his glass, taking a drink. The metal clinked against the glass, and his eyes cast down into his drink. He shifted in his seat, the pattern hiding the slight hardness there. He licked his lower lip, catching the drop of alcohol there, silver eyes glancing up at Wyverne with a tint of lust.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I had some fun," Lucio responded, a smirk to his lips. "Its been a while, I wonder if she'd enjoy." Valerius glanced at him, eyes slightly amused, before returning attention to Wyverne for a few moments more. He got up, meeting a client, walking to a more secluded booth to chat business.

Wyverne and Mephisto came back, Mephi chuckling as Wyverne shoved him. She scooted into the booth first, getting awfully close to Lucio. She took a sip from her drink, a soft blush from dancing with her brother on her cheeks. Mephisto sent Tarek some of the goofy pictures he had taken, taking something off the tray of food. She followed him, updating Azlingua so the poor woman wouldn't fret, and casually leaned over, trying to see the pictures he sent. He playfully shoved her back, which made her giggle.

Lucio was painfully aware of just how close she was, her hair brushing his skin, body so close to his. She had leaned back a little further, gently bumping against his chest. Her blush deepened slightly, and she quickly turned around, meeting his gaze.

"Мне жаль -- uh, I mean, I'm sorry, Sir," Wyverne told him, quickly backing out of her Russian. She touched him, his chest smooth and warm as she gently moved away from him. He grabbed her hand, fingers gently brushing along her palm, softly catching slender fingers.

"Не будь, моя дорогая," Lucio replied, easy and smooth. He brought her fingertips to his lips, never breaking eye contact. His lips brushed them, in the softest kiss, chuckling as he caught the sight of a gasp stuck in her throat.

••

Bright sunlight on her face, the warmth spreading over her eyelids. Wyverne groaned, peeling her face from the soft cotton pillow, yawning and stretching. She rubbed bleary eyes, and grabbed her phone, checking time. Huh, fully charged at 9:05 that morning. She didn't remember bringing her charger, and certainly didn't remember how she got into this bed. Reexamining her surroundings, she found a glass of water and a couple of aspirin. Whomever's house this was certainly was a gracious host. She took the pills and drank the water, the coolness wonderful against her sleep-parched throat.

She threw off her covers, and noticed she was in a very baggy men's silk dress shirt. Odd, since she also didn't remember putting this on before bed. She tried to remember what could've happened, but only got back so far as Mephisto leaving her with this handsome blond stranger, telling her that if she ever wanted to leave she's to call Azlingua. She vaguely remembered him telling her he had to go, that Azlingua needed him for a particular reason.

Try as she might, she couldn't remember the reason. Wyverne stood, stretching once more, and made her way to the master bathroom, the plush carpet giving way to cool white tile. She took a look at herself in the mirror and groaned, cursing out her curls. She started the shower, fumbling with soft gold buttons, letting the silk fabric fall around her ankles. She stretched once more, getting in the cool shower and freshening up.

Wyverne came downstairs, in her freshly laundered clothes from the night before, her curls in a more manageable mane with the curl products she had found in that master bathroom. She rounded the corner once she had reached the bottom of the stairs, and her nose was met with the smell of breakfast. Warm buttermilk pancakes, the mouthwatering smell of crisping bacon on the stove. Her stomach growled, and she blushed, clearing her throat before entering the dining area.

Lucio had been laughing at something said, taking a sip of his coffee. He flipped a row of pancakes, the golden brown reaching across the surface in perfection. Valerius was beside him, pouring a small amount of an irish cream into his cup when he looked up and saw their guest.

"Good morning," he said, setting the bottle on the counter. "Coffee?" He lazily stirred his, leaning against the counter, a plush robe around his slim frame.

"Uh, sure, yeah. Grazie," Wyverne muttered. She sat down on a barstool at the table, stifling a yawn, covering it with her hand.

Valerius set her coffee down in front of her, placing a small bottle of cream and a little dish of sugar cubes beside it. She took a cube, watching it softly soak up the coffee before sinking out of sight, and added another, giving her drink a small amount of cream before stirring. Lucio turned around, a plate full of crisp bacon in one hand and warm golden pancakes in the other, and smiled softly at a freshly woken Wyverne.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said, placing the two plates on the table, an apron against smooth skin. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm, yeah," Wyverne replied, taking a small sip of her coffee. She tucked her legs up under her, rubbing the back of her neck.

She took a warm pancake, and took a bite. The soft airiness was the first thing she noticed, like she had been served a cloud. The sharp tang of buttermilk had been evened out with the slight touch of sugar, but even so that sharp tang coated her tongue, and she rolled her eyes at how good it was. Valerius chuckled at her reaction, gently tapping on Lucio's shoulder as a soft mewl left her.

"Oh my _Gods_ , these are the best ever," she said softly, taking another bite, a hand over her heart. "Did you make these?"

"From scratch, lovely," Lucio said over his shoulder, another batch of bacon crisping in the pan. His hair was still mussed, his golden hand on his left hip. "I perfected the recipe, and one of my friends insisted I make it once a week."

Wyverne hummed thoughtfully, taking a sip of rich coffee. He brought over another stack, expertly balanced on the spatula, placing it with the others. She smiled softly, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear, one that had fallen in the line of his soft silver. Lucio blushed a bit, catching her off-guard with a kiss to her wrist.

At that moment, her phone rang. Her ringtone had chimed to the tune of Sound of Silence, Mephi's name and photo popping on the screen. Before Lucio had a chance to ask, her finger was on his lips, a practised hand swiping the green call button.

"Buongiorno," she said, and nearly dropped her phone in surprise when Azlingua popped on over Mephi's shoulder. She gave Lucio and Valerius a sheepish smile, holding her phone to her pierced ear. 

"Az, wait wait wait---" A pause, a blush on her cheeks. "É troppo presto per questo," she muttered under her breath.

Lucio chuckled, taking the last of the crisp bacon from the pan. Valerius had to hide a smirk, covering it with his long tresses. Wyverne made a cute little whine, probably at something this Mephisto had said. Lucio turned around, flipping over his last pancake, watching her gently bounce in her seat. He rolled his lip between his teeth, then softly cleared his throat and continued with the last batch of pancakes.

"Merda, quello era oggi !?" Her face had gone from a very gentle pout to full blown shock. "Uh .... posso ... posso finire la colazione prima?" Another pause, a small giggle, a brightness to her face Lucio hadn't seen quite yet. "Grazie, Mephisto. I'll call when I'm done."

Valerius smirked, gently touching Lucio on the shoulder. He murmured something into his ear, then disappeared, calling for Mercedes and Melchior. Lucio sighed softly to himself, bringing over the very last stack, along with his coffee. He took off the apron, hanging it over the back of the chair, sitting down on well worn oak.

Lucio watched as Wyverne brought the coffee to her lips, taking a deep draft through smooth lips. He caught her glance, and even though it didn't mean to be so sultry, he couldn't help the way it made him feel. He took a piece of the bacon, still warm, and in a smooth, husky voice, asked her to open up. Confused, she complied, and the piece of bacon was inserted between her lips, touching her tongue.

She tried to take it from his fingers, but snapped in two, leaving her trying to keep it contained in her mouth with a precious giggle. Lucio chuckled, a soft rumble deep in his chest, eating the piece that had snapped in his fingers. She went to reach for another piece, when she was stopped, an arm around her waist, a hand on her chin, pulling bright emerald to soft silver.

"Stay for a while? I like your company," he murmured, all softness against her lips. So close she could feel his breath upon them. "Maybe….meet the dogs? They'd love you."

"I…..I would but…," she started, eyes half closed and lips softly parted, a crumb of bacon still on her lip. "I can't…..there's something I have to do."

Lucio chuckled, a slightly sad smirk to his lips. He gently closed the gap, his lips brushing hers, all softness and gentleness. His hand found the nape of her neck, holding her there. He could feel how she gently whimpered against him, how she melted and returned each kiss. He could feel her soft hands rubbing bare shoulders, playing circles on his spine and carding through thick gold. He felt her weight on his lap, and just once in his life he wanted to be greedy, wanted to be greedy with her. He wanted to deepen the feather light kisses, to lift her shirt, to unfasten her pants, to have her right there like a light dessert after a hearty meal.

Wyverne pulled away, a blush to her cheeks, and she stood, grabbing her phone. As much as she'd love to stay, to meet the dogs and be wrapped up in his husky voice and warm scent, she couldn't do it. Instead she grabbed his phone, and inserted her phone number into his contact list, under the name Lovely. One last kiss, and she was out the door, slipping on her shoes and grabbing her small bag, dialing Mephisto and telling him where to meet her.

The Devil appeared, easily sinking into a chair. Lucio glanced at him, and started to clean a little when Volta came in, readily eating some of the leftovers. The Devil crossed one leg over the other, fingers steepled.

"So, where is the girl?" The Devil had a deep voice, sultry and soft, almost like velvet.

"Sorry, you just missed her." A stiff reply, warm water and soap on a dishcloth, scrubbing at pans.

"You let her escape?" The Devil's voice lowered with each word. "I _**told**_ you, she needed to stay."

"Well, I have to keep up my gentleman's facade." The smooth rinse of the pan, setting it on a plush drying mat. "I didn't want to force her."

"Who _fucking_ cares about your manners, Morgasson!?" He slammed his hand on the table, legs uncrossed. "I _**gave**_ you an order!"

"So _fucking_ what!?" A glance over a shoulder, a small snarl, and then back to dishes, using a couple rounds of soap to clean the pan used for bacon that morning. "That gorgeous vixen has her own life to live."

"Oh, was the bedtime cuddle all it took?" He sneered, standing to full height. "She is _**my**_ payment, _**my**_ prize! I MADE A DEAL FOR HER!" He screeched the last part, partially exasperated and partially furious. "SHE HAS BEEN RUNNING FOR 26 FUCKING YEARS, MORGASSON!"

Lucio rolled his eyes, Valerius just outside the kitchen with the dogs. His face fell, one of concern as he gave Melchior a pet.

"Look, I don't care if she was your bride," Lucio sneered, turning around, hands rinsed. "I _**still wouldn't**_ hand her over to you. She'd be better off with me. I'd spoil her rotten! I'd do anything for her, and that includes keeping you away." He dried his hands, running a hand through thick gold.

"I WILL FIND HER! YOUR USELESSNESS WILL PROVE TO BE YOUR UNDOING!" A clap of thunder, and The Devil was gone, Volta still eating leftovers.

Lucio let out a shaky breath. Meeting The Devil always racked his nerves, ever since the first meet. He took his coffee cup, draining the last dregs, and took Wyverne's empty mug, placing them both in the sink. He stood over it, catching his lip between his teeth.

Valerius entered the kitchen, his ombre'd hair pulled in a loose ponytail when he had gotten the Borzoi. He placed a hand on Lucio's shoulder, making him start a little. Valerius scanned his face, honeyed eyes slightly worried. Lucio smirked, though it wasn't as big as it normally was. He kissed Valerius' forehead, his hand cradling the nape of his neck.

"Will she be alright?" Valerius asked, soft and tired and yet….full of genuine concern. "I know, its stupid to worry after a girl we hardly know, but--"

"It's not that stupid," Lucio muttered. "I'm sure she will be. She seems to hold her own very well, and she was very cautious of me."

"Until this morning," Valerius reminded him, a soft smirk on his lips. "If memory serves, she was the one trying to get lost in you." He took the empty plate, Volta having the last few in her hand.

"She sounded real nice," Volta chimed in, softness to her voice. "Like a perfect match." She licked stuck crumbs from her fingers, looking back and forth between the two. "Oh, to see the dogs with her would be a treasure!"

"Ha, and that's why I wanted her to stay," Lucio said, all smiles and shameless blushes. "Ah, -ahem-, anyway, I need to get ready. I have an early morning meeting." He quickly disappeared, up the stairs into the master bath. Valerius chuckled, finishing up the last of the dishes. Maybe she would give him the time of day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian Translations:  
> "No, I do not dance, Mephisto!"  
> "I'm sorry--"  
> "Don't be, my dear."
> 
> Italian Translations:  
> "Good morning"  
> "It's too early for this"  
> "Shit, that was today!?"  
> "Uh....can....can I finish breakfast first?"


	3. Finality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It Is Over. The running has stopped. She can rest. He can find love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooowwww sorry this took so long!! I just....struggled with the throwdown and then...just...forgot it was hanging in my drafts pfff.
> 
> As always, translations at the end!!

It's been two years since Mephisto left. Vega was at her shop, simply called _Magick_. Tarek was with her, sharing a shift with her. He was dressed in his casual teals, bringing out his eyes. He had been going through dating app after dating app, trying to get over Mephisto and his stupid face, and gorgeous blond hair, and stupid grin.

Vega sighed softly, the shop temporarily empty. She fixed the frame, the one that held Tarek's bouquet. It was pressed and dried, the roses ranging from deep blues to near blacks, the white flowers having faded to soft creams. Tarek groaned, burying his face in his arms.

"Vega, _please_ ," Tarek muttered, pushing himself up off the counter. "I've asked _hundreds_ of times to take it down and toss it."

"And you know why I won't do that!" Vega came around the front of the counter, lighting the warm incense. "You had a light in your eyes, a light I haven't seen in years."

"He won't come back!" Tarek's voice, full of pain, almost on the verge of tears. "He left me, Vega! Why would he _ever_ come back just for me!?" His fists clenched, eyes downcast. "It...I….Vega, he _left_. If I meant that much, he would've _stayed_."

"Oh honey, sweetie." Vega took his hand, holding it tight, cupping his cheek and lifting his face so his teal would meet her. "He loved you, he _still_ loves you. I've seen the photos he sends, Tarek. The way you light up and blush and laugh. You _still_ care."

Tarek took a deep, shaky breath, brushing away some of the tears. It was true, she wasn't wrong. But it still hurt, the way he left. He loved the phone calls, loved the little video chats. _Adored_ each photo, even the more suggestive ones. But the numbness, the pain, it couldn't go away. He'd been afraid, afraid of asking and getting shot down hard.

"Now, have you left tonight open?" Vega asked him, her eyes dancing. She still wasn't sure when Mephisto was coming in, wasn't quite positive how he'd managed to look up the shop's number. But she knew one thing, this was meant to be.

"Yes," Tarek lied. "I still don't know why you've asked me to do that." He rearranged some of the crystals, some of the herbs and powders.

"I can't tell because it'll spoil the surprise, silly." Vega rolled her eyes playfully, dusting off some of the less used shelves, pulling back a couple still-closed curtains. "I want to see the look on your face."

Tarek just sighed, momentarily slumping his shoulders. She was gonna be the death of him, even though she was the sweetest friend. She never did anything without a motive, though. And this motive he couldn't quite figure out. He just hoped whatever it was was worth standing up his hookup for a few minutes.

☆☆

The Raven was as bustling as ever at night. Booths were filled, patrons laughed and jested. A ruckus was happening with a pair of old crones who were playing cards. Julian got splashed with drink again after helping one of the crones win, chuckling to himself.

Tarek was in casual wear, though a little more upscale. Deep teal cotton stood out wonderfully against his skin, the buttons halfway done. The sleeves were rolled, partially showing his forearms, his nails painted black. His trousers were a snug fit, inked in the deepest black and embroidered with The Raven logo on the back pocket in a dusted silver. Rings adorned his fingers, a habit he had picked up after seeing Mephisto with them on the reg. His piercing was still there, the gem sparkling against his dark brow, the small gold hoops adorning his ears.

He had started on making Julian his second Salty Bitters when the door jingled softly, almost lost in the loud music and even louder chatter. Vega had looked over her shoulder, and excitedly patted Tarek's arm. He rolled his eyes, pouring the rum as he was about to ask her a question, when the softest voice with a familiar soft accent spoke to him.

"May I have a Salty Bitters?" The way the voice pulled on the accents was unique, and Tarek looked up from popping the ginger beer to see the owner of the voice.

Wyverne was standing there, dressed in soft pastels and a snug pair of jeans. She still had her triple piercings, still mismatched on purpose. Her hair was pulled in a half ponytail, her eyes plain save for a nude shade of eyeliner. She gave him a soft smile, the nude lipstick playing wonderfully with her freckles. He only managed a soft nod, the words too stuck in his throat to tell her.

She nodded her thanks, and walked over to her booth. Her phone softly vibrated in her back pocket, and she took it out and picked up the call, shuffling a little into her regular booth. She talked into the phone, softly and quietly, trying her best to give Mephisto directions.

"Iată băutura ta, domnișoară," Tarek told her, in fluent Romanian. The drink was set across from her, and she quickly looked up at him, surprise and shock in her eyes.

At first, Tarek thought he said something wrong. Just as he was about to apologise, she had gotten up, throwing her arms around him. He was taken aback for a split second, unsure of what just happened. He mentally shrugged, and hugged her back. _Stranger things, I suppose._

Wyverne was the first to break the hug, a big smile on her face. She hung up on Mephisto, stowing her phone in her back pocket. She gently turned Tarek to face the front doors, and covered his eyes with her hands.

"Um….Street Magician?" Tarek sounded nervous. "What….What are you doing?" He gently touched her wrists, about to pull her hands away, when she shouted in Italian.

"Vieni qui, idiota innamorato!" Wyverne giggled breathlessly, standing on tiptoe behind Tarek. He could hear the bell, the door opening, and the soft shuffle of shoes on the floor.

Mephistopheles walked in, eyes scanning the bar. His hair was braided at the temple, brought back into a bun. His cotton shirt was snug, buttons partially done, the color a rich jeweltone blue. His pants were snug, lightly inked in a gray, contrasting with decorative embroidery around the pocket edges. He still adorned his fingers with rings from Wyverne, his ears holding a couple sets of gemstone studs. He spotted Tarek, and almost contemplated backing out, a blush creeping along high cheekbones.

Mephisto walked over, taking a deep breath to steel himself. He placed his hands behind his back, and slowly brushed buttery lips against Tarek's. Wyverne pulled her hands away at that moment, letting Tarek's teal soak in her older brother. Mephisto had pulled away, lips a mere hair's breadth away, a hand hovering over his cheek.

Tarek's mind blanked. He couldn't believe it. After all this time, he was back, he was _here_. That sheepish grin crossed Mephisto's lips the hand hovering over his cheek now rubbing the back of his neck. This dumb _idiot_ was in front of him, alive and real and precious.

"Este real?" Tarek whispered, hands touching Mephi's chest, brushing shoulders, up his neck and cupping his cheeks.

"It _is_ real," Mephi whispered back. "Tarek I...I want to see how things go again. I….I'm s--"

Tarek had cut him off, a deep, bruising kiss lighting the fire in him again. Mephisto's eyes went wide, the blush deepening on pale cheeks. Mephi's eyes slowly closed, touching Tarek's wrists, letting himself get absorbed in him. Tarek's hand found the nape of Mephi's neck, his lips finding his cheeks and forehead and temples. Mephi chuckled a bit, his senses trying to catch up.

"Look, Tarek, I--" Another brusing kiss, this one making Mephi melt just a touch. He could feel the small, inaudible growl deep in Tarek's chest. It made his knees go weak, a warmth spread, and it took every ounce of strength to not collapse right then and there.

"Just shut up and let me kiss you," Tarek whispered, breathless and full of love. Mephi just complied, forgetting just how _lovely_ it all was. To be wrapped up in him, it made his head spin and his chest ache and the strange pull happen at the base of his spine.

Vega, meanwhile, had been taking pictures, to show to Asra later. Well…..mostly to gush about later. She noticed the girl had been trying not to cry, a hand over her mouth and eyes wet with tears. She got up and went over to her, an arm around her shoulders in a silent moment of comfort.

Julian had let out a whistle, quietly laughing to himself when Tarek blushed further and pulled away softly, gently resting his forehead against Mephi's chest with a low groan. He had been so wrapped up in the disaster of a blond in front of him he had forgotten _exactly_ where he was.

Mephi pulled him into the booth he shared with Wyverne, opting to sit next to the window. Wyverne followed, sitting across from him, and Julian had come over, shuffling in beside her. Vega pulled up a chair, sitting with a leg tucked up underneath her.

"So, uh, why _did_ you leave?" Tarek had asked, breaking the silence, his teal shifting from Mephi to Verne. "The question has always nagged me."

"Well...its, _heh_ , kinda a long story." Wyverne rubbed the back of her neck. She softly blushed, glancing down into her her glass.

"We have all the time, hun." Vega reached over, touching her hand. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"

"Well….I was born in London. I was...payment for a deal. My parents backed out, and left me at an unarranged spot in front of an orphanage. Our guardian, Azlingua, picked me up and took me in. The name they have on file is Wilhemina Dervon, and I've gotten my university education, and a job that pays well."

"We started traveling when she was a baby," Mephisto said, leaning against Tarek. "We've always called her Wyverne, because that's her true name."

"So….Wilhemina is a cover name?" Vega asked, eyes full of questions. "What are you hiding from?"

"Not what, my dear. _Who_." Mephisto took a sip of his drink. She was about to ask him a question, when he answered for her. "The Devil."

"I...I've been running ever since. It was a lot harder when I was younger, my talent for natural, actual magic was not yet developed. There were times he almost had me, while I slept with Mephi, the two of us having no idea until the next morning."

Tarek's eyes were wide. The Devil? The Devil Arcana!? What...how? He had so many questions, too many questions. He grabbed Mephi's hand, fingers intwining with his, while Julian wrapped his arm around her, holding her other hand. Wyverne reached for Julian's glass, forgetting for a moment hers was in front of her.

"So uh….when we finally found ourselves here...well, I thought I was done," Wyverne wiped a tear from her eye, silently cursing herself. "I thought he couldn't find me."

"Oh no," Vega whispered, a hand over her mouth. "That's when you disappeared." Wyverne nodded, looking at Mephi.

"I stayed. The kids I taught needed me and...well…," He coughed, turning a slight shade of pink. "The company was too good. I think Az had to practically drag me by the ear." Mephisto sheepishly chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Wait. _Kids_ you taught?" Julian and Tarek had asked at almost the exact same time. Julian had swapped glasses again with Wyverne, making Vega giggle and Tarek casually roll his eyes.

"I….didn't tell you, Tarek?" Mephisto looked at him, his thumb gently rubbing the back of Tarek's hand. Tarek shook his head 'no' slightly, a confused look to his face.

"Tell him what?" Vega had her elbows on the table, chin cupped in her hands, cheeks smooshed. She had a goofy grin on her face, eager to soak up any gossip the blond had. Wyverne giggled at Vega, casually leaning on Julian.

"I'm a licensed teacher of self-defense for children," Mephisto told her. "I was trained in Surrey, since we had to go back for Wy's university degree by that point. I loved it so much, I actually opened a studio here." Vega's jaw had dropped, and she looked to Wyverne, who only simply gave an eyebrow raise and downed the rest of the glass.

"And you didn't say this because…?" Tarek asked, a tiny hint of a mischievous glint in his eye. He brought their entwined hands to his lips, lightly brushing Mephi's fingers against his lips.

"What, a man can't have a few secrets?" Mephisto chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

"He's also a very lovely swordsman. I know, I trained with him for fun sometimes." Wyverne had her head against Julian's chest, this smirk on her face Mephisto knew all too well. "Well, now you gotta tell me _that_ ," Vega said, eyes lighting up.

"I'll tell you in private," Wyverne told her. Mephi's eyes widened slightly, this blush forming on his face, his head tilted slightly in a silent attempt to get her to shut up. "I wouldn't want to spoil it for Tarek~" She said his name with a singsong voice, chin resting on her hand and a smirk to her lips.

"So, Spitfire," Mephisto said, gently untangling his fingers from Tarek's, taking his hair out of the bun he had it in. "When are we doing this?"

"Doing what?" Tarek asked, almost simultaneously with Vega and Julian. Tarek had a look of concern, with Vega and Julian sharing confused looks.

"Going after The Devil," Wyverne stated softly, rolling her lip between her teeth. She looked up at them, and caught the worry in Tarek's eye.

"You can't!" Tarek said, gripping her hand. "You'll be _killed!_ The Devil is the most powerful Major Arcana because of all the deals!"

"I have to try," she said, on the verge of tears. "I can't run anymore. I've run out of places to hide. I just….I want this over." A single tear traced its way through the maze of freckles on her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away.

Julian held her close, nuzzling her hair. He didn't quite know her well, but he knew she needed comfort, and he was ready to give it to her. Vega and Tarek each held her hand, sharing glances with each other.

"I'll talk to Asra. He knows the most about the Realms," Vega said. She was stroking the back of her hand with her thumb.

☆☆

Its been a few weeks. Asra just finished the circle, dusting chalk from his hands. Faust was coiled around Tarek's arm, giving gentle squeezes. Julian had been watching with mild interest, while Vega had been holding Wyverne's hand. The redhead had been nervous up to this point, knowing the long 28 years of running was almost over.

"Alright. Everyone form a circle," Asra instructed, holding his hands out. Tarek took his right, and Vega took his left.

With deep breaths, Mephisto took Tarek's other hand, and Wyverne took Vega's. Julian was last, completing the circle.

"Close your eyes. Relax. Let go of your physical bonds," Asra muttered, soft and soothing. Everyone followed his lead, and Wyverne felt the sensation of the ground giving way.

She felt like she was falling through a void, and she gripped the hands she was holding tightly. The world seemed to spin around her, and just as she was about to cry out, the movement stopped. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

The Realm was vast. A dry, scorching desert, a red haze to the air. The sand shifted, dipped and bowed and swayed. The wind whipped, hot and arid and stinging with sand. The ground seemed to shake under their feet, ever shifting and always cracking. In the distance, surrounded by smoke and haze, a tall, obsidian spire, broken at the highest point.

"This is it," Asra said, almost shouting to be heard over the wind. "This is his Realm. Are you sure about this?"

Wyverne and Mephisto nodded. _They_ were sure about this. They shared a knowing glance, and Tarek touched Mephisto's shoulder. Vega was still holding Asra's hand, and Julian Wyverne's.

The walk to that large obsidian spire seemed to take forever. Geysers would erupt seemingly from nowhere, fissures spilled noxious gas. Smoke from wells deep underground coated the dry sand, giving it a rich smoky black color. Once or twice Wyverne was swept off her feet by Julian, who had enough reaction time to save her from falling into fresh chasms. She always clung after, afraid any new crack would swallow her.

\--

Deep inside the tower, _he_ waited. Soft golden hair, so platinum blond it was silver. Deep gold eyes shone in the dim red light, an all-knowing smirk seemingly reflected in them. Thin lips were pulled into a grin, his chin resting on manicured hands.

He could feel it, then. Her chaotic energy, carefully controlled, a delicious deep blue in all the red of his Realm. The tall granite doors burst forth, and his grin only widened. _Like a lamb to slaughter._

"Well, well," his voice rang out, soft and commanding. "Is the _little bitch_ finally ready to be _mine?_ "

"Fat. Fucking. Chance." Wyverne strode in, all hardness to her soft frame. Her voice echoed from the very ceiling, her eyes a determined steel.

"Watch your tone with me," he growled, standing from his jewel-encrusted throne. "You forget. I _own you_. That Mark makes you _mine_."

"You won't have her!" Mephisto spoke next, a hand on his sister's shoulder. "She's not _yours._ "

" _Learn when to speak!_ " The Devil shouted, shrill and harsh.

Chains, red hot iron. They snaked along the ground, the sound of rusted steel making the siblings wince. They caught Mephisto by the ankle, burning through to bare skin. He didn't scream, not until the chains snaked around the rest of him, burning every available inch. 

"Mephistopheles! No!" Tarek and Wyverne seemed to shout this together, with Wyverne shortening the blond's name.

He was lifted higher, his screams echoing. The Devil glared his hard glare, and when he was sure the troublesome blond learned his place, he was dropped. Mephisto coughed, dry coughs that shook him. Burns from the chains were still smoking, the skin inflamed from the branding.

Tarek rushed over, helping the slightly shorter man up. Wyverne looked up at The Devil, a fire in the emeralds as he lazily sauntered down ruby steps.

"If I had known it would be _that_ easy, I would've silenced that insufferable mutt when he showed his face." He chuckled, fingers curled around his chin, fingertips dusted black.

"Now, I won't ask again. Are you ready to be my bitch?" He was so close to her, she could feel the heat off of him. He grabbed her chin in slender fingers, forcing her to look him in the eye. She spat at him, furious.

"You _little **slut**_ ," he growled, wiping the spit from his eye, smudging the eyeliner he had. "I would have given you _everything_ you could have _asked_ for!"

"Fuck off!" A perfect British accent, coming from full lips. A roundhouse kick to his jaw set him back a few paces, realigning with a sickening _crack._

"I don't _need **ANYTHING!**_ " Wyverne had shouted at him, magic brushing her fingertips, making them glow. "Especially not from the likes of you!"

Julian had been with Tarek at Mephisto's side, quieting him when he protested. Tarek's hands had been gently glowing, touching every spare inch with practiced healing and care. Each touch sent a fresh wave of pain through the blond, and the grit teeth told Julian he was doing all he could to appear unfazed.

"That fucking bastard," Mephisto muttered, under his breath. "He's gonna wish he dealt with Wyverne and not me."

"Mephistopheles, its too dangerous!" Tarek had such worry in his voice, his hand on the scar. "Look at what he did to you!"

"Oh, please! I've had worse," Mephisto told him, breath catching at a new brand being touched. "Besides, if you're here to heal me, I wouldn't mind a few more injuries." He tried a shameless, winning smile. It turned into more of a winning grimace.

Asra and Vega had been surveying the whole affair, trying to figure out where to step in. Vega wanted to step in immediately upon seeing Mephisto getting wrapped in chains, but Asra had held her back, a firm line to his lips. There was going to be an opportune moment, they just had to find it.

"Asra, I'm worried," Vega whispered, squeezing his hand. "I know they can handle it, but…"

"We'll step in when they can't keep up," Asra muttered, an arm around her shoulders for comfort.

The Devil had grabbed Wyverne's wrist when she tried to connect with his perfect nose. He pulled her close to him, his other hand holding her firm to his gaze.

"I _will_ have you," he muttered, low and viscous. "You _were_ and _are_ part of a long-dead deal with me." His lips were so close, she could feel his breath and almost taste his skin.

"You will never have another need again. Just one little deal, pet. That's all I ask. Be my slave, at my beck and call, and everyone will go free." He crooned, sickly sweet.

Wyverne's magic was concentrated at her fingertips, a warm flame in each one. Each word served to piss her off more, and she lashed out. Her nails raked across his face, searing lines of red. He dropped her, crying out in agony as he clutched his face. She was about to attempt another attack, when the chains wrapped around her wrists and forearms, keeping her at her position. The chains started to sear her skin, and she wailed her frustration and pain.

"Wyverne…" Julian whispered her name, and was about to help when Mephi strongly grabbed him by the collar, making him fall on his ass.

"And just _what_ do you think you're gonna accomplish, Doc?" Mephisto asked, his ice hard steel. "You rushing in there is _not_ gonna save her from those fucking chains."

"You're not--" Tarek began, immediately cut off by Mephi's smooth lips. Tarek's hands carded through thick blond, afraid to lose him if he let go.

"I'll be safe, promise." Mephi whispered. "You can resurrect my corpse and kick its ass if I don't." One last kiss, and the very torn shirt was ripped off his frame completely.

The tribal sleeve on his right arm was a stark black contrast, gently glowing in a myriad of colors from the Realm's influence. A blinding flash of light, and this elegant sword appeared in his hand. Expertly made, a very thin blade with an intricately carved pommel, the handguard a perfect cage.

A deep breath, his muscles relaxed completely. He ran headlong at the chains, his sword singing through them. They shattered like glass, allowing Wyverne freedom to drop to her knees and heal.

Mephi wasn't done. He distracted the chains, blade slicing through each one like it was never there, shards of steel and iron littering his feet. Miniscule cuts bled deep red, a gorgeous contrast to his skin. His muscles flexed, bunched and relaxed with each swing, his arm twisting at almost impossible angles to guard and slice and block.

Julian had rushed over to Wyverne during the display, with Tarek following, though slightly delayed. Tarek placed his hands on Wyverne's, releasing his magic through his fingers to help boost hers. Julian had been checking her over, for any other wounds or injuries. He tried to ignore the soft hitch in her throat as the magic repaired skin, knitting it back together. He tried to ignore how she moved, to ignore the warmth. It wasn't the best time to develop a crush.

Everything seemed to come slowly to Wyverne, once she was healed. The Devil, tired at dealing with Mephisto, gathered a handful of chains and had them lash out at Wyverne. Tarek tried to make a quick shield, but the chains were coming almost too fast.

A sudden flash of lavender, and it cascaded over the trio in shimmering dust. The chains tried to break through, each time the shield only getting stronger. Asra had gotten close enough to cast the shield, his violet eyes darkening in concentration. Vega ran inside the bubble of safety, checking over Wyverne.

"Are you sure you're alright!?" She had been very worried, shot nerves preventing her from doing something until Asra did. "I'll kill that bastard myself!"

"I'm….I'm alright," Wyverne nodded, a fine tremor to her hands. "Its just...overwhelming."

Mephisto had been busy with the chains, but he couldn't keep them at bay. His sword was caught, and he was struggling not to lose his advantage. His muscles had flexed, bunching under the skin, a vain attempt at holding on.

Wyverne cursed under her breath, and ran out into the fray. Every instinct screamed at her to run, or at least accept the stupid little deal. She wrapped herself in an Illusion Of Darkness, so The Devil couldn't detect her. Mephisto was struggling against the chains, gritting his teeth against the pain.

All of her magic concentrated itself in her palms, making them glow white-hot. She hoped it would be enough, as she took a running leap. She landed on his back, pressing her searing palms into him, and flooding him with all the magic she could muster. Her world went white, her vision blocked by the onrush of magic, the flash blinding those who looked.

☆☆

Laughter. The sound of children playing. A man gently scolding, his auburn curls always a mess. They came to see the girl, who had been sleeping for a few weeks now. A blond man was at her side, his hand clutching hers, his hair a worried mess around him.

Julian walked in, Tarek behind him. Tarek walked over to the blond man, gently shaking him awake. A girl with tight brown curls was startled awake by him too, and she sleepily rubbed her eyes, muttering that she was awake. A man with fluffy white hair was also startled awake, his violet eyes dull with sleep.

Julian was about to check the girl's pulse, when her fingers twitched in her brother's hand. Her eyes shifted behind closed eyelids, and she squeezed them before slowly blinking them open. Soft emeralds blinked up at him, and she watched Julian in a slow confusion.

"Dr. Devorak…?" She muttered, throat dry and raspy. She coughed, then yawned, and used the heel of her palm to rub away the sleep.

"Hey, Wyverne," he muttered, soft and soothing. He checked her pulse, felt for a temperature. "How you feeling?"

"Like hell," she told him, and went to sit up.

Mephisto helped her, and her arms weakly wrapped around him in a hug. He hugged her back, clutching the back of her shirt. Tarek rubbed her back with Mephisto, his head on hers.

"....is it over?" Wyverne whispered, her voice lost to her brother's shoulder. "Is it finally done?"

"It is." It wasn't his voice, it was Asra. He had walked over, a soft smile on his face. "I brought you all back, it was just a matter of time. You used a lot of magic."

Wyverne had started to cry. It was all over. They could _stay._ Her and Mephisto could _stay_. She looked between everyone there, her emerald eyes finally landing on her brother. Mephisto returned her gaze, an arm wrapped around Tarek's waist, his head against Tarek's stomach.

"Well, it looks like you two are off to a good start," Wyverne teased, her voice starting to come back. Mephisto blushed a little, chuckling softly.

"Yeah, I had Tarek go on a date with him," Vega told her, a soft smile on her lips. "Mephisto needed a break, Tarek needed a break."

"At least he's finally got someone," Wyverne teased, poking Mephi's chest. "That's all I'm happy about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations!!
> 
> Romanian:
> 
> "Here's your drink, Miss."
> 
> "Is it real?" 
> 
> Italian:
> 
> "Come here, you idiot in love!"

**Author's Note:**

> I am NOT fluent in Romanian in this chapter. I had used Google Translate, so if anything is wrong, correct me!! I want to be as accurate as possible!
> 
> "Well, if it isn't little Verne!" 
> 
> "Don't be like that, little sis."
> 
> "Really? Is that all you're worried about?"
> 
> "I love you"


End file.
